


The night I looked at you (The Bet)

by jormaperalta



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Along with some scenes I added for fun, F/M, The Bet, basically Amy's POV of the bet, fake date real romance, season 1 au ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-13 23:56:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7143725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jormaperalta/pseuds/jormaperalta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Amy Santiago pictured a man getting down on one knee before her, it wasn’t anything like this.</p><p>+</p><p>Aka: an in-depth look into Amy’s POV of 1x13 “The Bet”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The night I looked at you (The Bet)

**Author's Note:**

> I am season 1 trash, so this explains why this came to fruition.

When Amy Santiago pictured a man getting down on one knee before her, it wasn’t anything like this.

When she was a preteen (even a teenager) and the dreams she had were frivolous, the most extravagant thing she pictured was the man who she would have loved for years (in her dreams, she always pictured Jonathan Taylor Thomas) surrounded by flowers (peonies and roses), a string quartet (playing “At Last” by Etta James) and their families and friends. Even at 10, she knew those things would be ridiculous, but she knew childhood was a time for whimsy, so she let herself hope and dream.

But then she grew up, and became even more sensible. At 30, a detective in the NYPD, salutatorian of her high school and valedictorian of her college, and a victim of several failed dates and relationships, her dreams changed.

All she wants, now, is just a decent guy who can respect rules and organization and that he propose in anyway that doesn’t involve a crowd of strangers. Hell, if he wants to propose in the middle of a Netflix marathon, that would be great with her. As long as it’s before she’s 35. She has a plan.

And, unfortunately, that plan isn’t coming to term.

She can’t even get the rule-following guy.

Because there Jake Peralta kneels, with a shit-eating grin on his face as they’re engulfed in confetti and 90s music.

And there, standing before her partner/colleague/occasional friend, Amy regrets every decision she’s made that year. But, especially one.

+

(one year ago)

It started with their general banter. Amy’s not the only person to think that being a detective is a stressful job and, oddly enough, her “fights” with her partner are sometimes the highlights of her day.

She and Jake had just closed a major case, one of those ones that makes Hell look like a trip to Disneyland. Their entire squad was all congregating in the briefing room as a reprieve for solving it when Jake made an offhand comment about being the best in the precinct for cracking the case.

Her competitive streak on fire, she scoffed, “Oh please, Peralta, I solved that case just as much as you did.” And that was true.

Jake shrugged, crossing his arms and smirking, “But _I_ got the collar, Santiago. That makes me the best detective in the precinct.”

Amy’s not amused. She’s been dealing with guys like Peralta since the Academy. Charismatic, goofy white boys who coast through life on their privilege while she has to scratch and claw her way as a young, Cuban-American woman. And, after that long day, she snapped.

“You couldn’t detect your way out of a paper bag,” She told him, “I’ve been here two years and I’m already almost at your record,” She pointed out smugly. She was the most recent transfer to the 9-9, still, but was kicking ass. As per usual.

Jake seethed playfully, but she noticed a similar competitive streak in his eyes. “Tell that to my collar, Santiago. Besides, ‘almost’ isn’t where I’m at. Which is the best, the place I’m at is the best,” He clarified like a babbling idiot.

Her streak came to a head, but she couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth, “Put your money where your mouth is, Peralta. Prove it.” And then everyone oohed like they’re in middle school. She didn’t realize it, but the room had divided slightly. Gina, Rosa, and her on one side, Peralta and Boyle on the other, with Sergeant Jeffords in the middle.

Jake playfully sniffed the air, like the child he is, “Do I smell a bet, Santiago?”

Everyone was looking at her, and she knew she couldn’t back out now and said, with only slight reluctance, “Yes.”

Everyone oohed again.

“Let’s see, let’s see,” Jake rubbed his hands together as he sat on the edge of the desk. “You versus me, whoever gets more felony arrests wins.”

She nodded then put her hands on her hips as the crowd continued to go wild, “What are the stakes?” Before he could open his mouth, she interrupted, “And don’t say money, because I know you’re in debt.”

Jake scoffed, “If you really knew anything about me, you would’ve said _crushing debt_. And I’ll bet whatever, ‘cause there’s no way I’m losing.”

Rosa spoke up, the first time in the entire conversation, “What about your car?” And Amy gasped with sick glee as she barely registered Sarge’s warning noises. Jake _loved_ his car. More than discounts and catching criminals. She would have never come up with anything that twisted, thank God for Rosa.

Charles gasped as well, but for a totally different reason. “Jake, no! That thing is a date-magnet. I mean, how many girls have you made out with in that car?” He hazarded a “wild” guess, “Six?”

“Well, I’m gonna win, so sure,” Jake said, turning his attention back to her and Rosa, “Let’s bet the car!”

“Yes!” Amy grinned, nodding, already plotting what she would do with it when she won. Not if, _when_.

The rest of the squad was reacting, but she and Peralta were honed in on each other, reading every potential weakness. But then Boyle kept flipping out, causing Jake turn look over.

“No, Jakey, no! That car is your superpower! Thor would _never_ wager his hammer, Neil Patrick Harris would _never_ wager his showmanship.” Amy would roll her eyes if she weren’t so in the zone. “Losing that car will be the worst thing in the world to you.”

Gina spoke up for the first time, a rarity for her to be silent in a conversation, “Well, what’s the worst thing in the world for _you_ , Santiago?”

Amy, after briefly glancing to acknowledge the civilian administrator that she rarely understands, turned back to Jake and gave him a look with a slight sneer on it, “Being one of those girls in Jake’s car.” She’d shudder if it wouldn’t be overkill.

The entire room erupted with “ohs!” again, but all she could see is Jake’s smug face as he mouths “ _you wish_ ” at her.

Jeffords drew attention to himself gracefully and stood, and she found herself standing straighter as well. “Okay, okay, it’s settled. If Peralta loses, Santiago gets his car. If Santiago loses, she goes for a date in said car.”

“Game on,” Jake said in approval of the terms, standing and moving in front of her.

“Game on,” She agreed, and they shook hands.

She went to pull away but Jake kept his grip, looking down at their joined hands, “Wow, your handshake is quite firm.”

She smirked, channeling her inner smug to put him to shame. “I took a seminar.”

“Where?” He asked, pure confusion on his face.

But then she left the briefing room. She had data to crunch and bad guys to catch.

+

Exactly one year after the bet, Amy strolls into the precinct, wearing her most vibrant blouse, because today will be a good day. Over the past week, she and Peralta have been neck-and-neck, but she’s ahead by one, and she has binders full of evidence to put perps away.

Jake, who was mandated to be at the premises earlier than usual to watch Charles’s Medal of Valor ceremony, and her stand right up to each other. Her face is an impassive, revealing nothing, while he looks smug. As always.

“Peralta.”

“Santiago.”

“The bet ends today,” He says like she doesn’t have it in her two printed calendars, her three planners, and her phone calendar. “Are you ready?”

“I was born ready-”

“To lose!” He says before she finishes her sentence. “The whole question was, ‘Are you ready to lose?’ And you said you were born that way.”

She doesn’t deign to roll her eyes, “Twist my words all you want-”

“Okay.”

“I’m winning this bet.” Her voice is steady and firm, and she knows she’ll be right.

“What bet?” Hitchcock asks, and Amy sighs, and Jeffords calls him out of his idiocy.

“A year ago today, Peralta and I made a bet to prove who’s a better detective,” Amy explains to Hitchcock and, if she knows Jake at all, and she does, he’s gesturing to himself grandly as the words ‘better detective’ leave her lips. “Whoever makes more felony arrests wins. And now the score is all tied up.”

Originally, the score sheet was in the corner of the briefing room whiteboard (where it all began), but they moved it to a portable one so she and Peralta could rub it in the other’s face on the go.

“But not for long!” Jake says dramatically, as they move to their desks. “For, in eight hours, I will win the bet, and take Santiago on the worst date in the history of the world.”

She just smiles saccharinely at him, about to retort, when Captain Holt says, “Attention” and she turns around to face him.

“After today’s shift, I’d like everyone to join me at the bar in honor of Detective Boyle and his Medal of Valor.” Gina, Holt, and Charles have some banter, but Amy’s trying to time her strategy so she can coerce another case out of her mentor.

Her planning proves to be detrimental, because as soon as Holt ends the announcement, Jake books it out of his chair.

Just as she catches on, he throws a pen, a wheely chair, and then Gina’s folders off her desk at her feet.

She curses herself mentally as she hits the window. Both for failing at getting to the door quickly and for looking like an idiot right in front of the Captain and the bullpen.

After Jake leaves and then she leaves Captain Holt’s office after not receiving an extra case, she decides to go get coffee to amp herself up.

“Hey, Charles,” She greets the detective practically staking out the coffee maker. Charles is a sweetheart, plus he’s still reeling a bit from getting injured in the line of duty. “How are-”

“My buttholes?” He asks, causing her to wince.

“I was going to say ‘gunshot wounds,’” She says gently, “But I guess that works.” She makes a slight face. Jake is walking by, so she makes sure to say, “I”ll enjoy driving to the ceremony in my new car today.”

Jake makes a “fight me” gesture and she rolls her eyes and turns back to Charles. Before she can say anything else, he sighs.

“Oh, Amy,” His voice is subdued, causing her to lean in. “You’re an amazing detective, and I respect you like hell, but I hope you lose this bet.”

She blinks, purely taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“You and Jake _need_ this push. You might finally see the light,” He says, sounding like a Disney character. “Now, if you excuse me, I need my beans.” And then he’s off on his cane to get beans.

Amy pauses to herself, but decides that’s probably Jake messing with her through Charles so she goes back to her desk as quickly as she can without running.

+

Amy has to resist the urge to violently cheer as she runs into the bullpen, dragging a criminal with her who was surprisingly willing to run in a police precinct. Slightly out of breath from running up three flights of stairs (elevators take too long) and adrenaline, Amy presents her felony offender to Jake, who’s sitting in his perp chair, facing her with a worried look on his face.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Amy greets as she gestures to the caucasian perp in her grasp, “I present Carl Laudson, who stole three thousand dollars!” She gestures for another cop to process him as she goes for her watch, which she synced with three different devices. “Santiago takes the lead with one minute left!” She beams, the most exuberant she’s been in her entirety at the 9-9. Because of said adrenaline, she shouts, “Suck it, Peralta!” She starts to dance a little when he speaks up.

“Oh no,” He says, blandly.

“That’s right, ‘oh no’-” She finally registers how he said the phrase. “Oh no. You don't seem worried. Why don't you seem worried?!” She points at him vaguely as she staggers back, all of her adrenaline now fear-based rather than due to excitement.

“Bring in the johns!” Jake says, leisurely standing as some beat cops bring in over two dozen men. She watches in shock. “I ran a prostitution sting through vice and arrested 30 guys for soliciting,” He says casually, like this is a normal thing.

She realizes something, years of academy training drilled into her, “That’s not a felony!” She points at him, because she will _not_ lose.

Jake smiles at her and speaks over the parade of johns, “It is when it’s your second offense, which is the case for ten of these gentlemen.”

Amy watches them all, because no way this is really happening. Just as she considers pinching herself, Jake adds, because he’s a little shit, “Fun fact, four of them are actually named John. Ironic. Anyhoo, ten more for Peralta. Accept your fate!” He spins around and heads towards the whiteboard as a feeling of dread sinks deep in her stomach. Especially when she notices all her coworkers standing around with pleased looks on their faces.

“Never,” She violently shakes her head as people seem to get into positions as Peralta counts down. “Oh...”

“One! Jake wins, Amy loses!” He pulls out a boombox and starts playing that stupid, awful, repetitive “Celebrate” song as confetti guns go off and she’s showered in confetti.

She watches, humiliated, as Peralta flips over the whiteboard and has “PERALTA WINS” written on the back. She feels wretched. Everyone banked on her losing. She feels like she’s in middle school all over again, getting bullied by the cheerleaders and jocks. Jake, candy-eating, no-exercise Jake Peralta, being a _jock_ in this scenario. This is truly a low-point for her.

Everyone cheers for him, and she tries to take it gracefully. Her parents, knowing her competitive streak, tried to teach her how to lose well, but so far the seminars are not working for her.

She feels like an idiot as Jake dances like an idiot before her, only to spin around and fall to one knee with a red velvet ring box in his outreached palm. In that moment, Amy slouches and forces herself to be brave as she gets through this ordeal, all the while trying not to scream.

“Amy Santiago, you have me the happiest man on Earth.” She tries not to roll her eyes. “I spent one whole dollar on this ring. Will you go on the worst date ever with me? You have to say yes.”

Amy bites the bullet and says, quietly, “Yes.”

“SHE SAID YES!” Jake exclaims, like a hammy actor on SNL, to no one in particular as he stands. “She said yes, she said yes,” He says over the cheering crowd of people she now hates. “This is for you,” He tosses the ring box at her.

Thankfully, due to living with seven brothers, but only half of them had athletic skills and good aim, she’s pretty good at catching stuff so she catches the box no issue as he dances away.

+

It’s almost quitting time, and Amy is organizing files when someone sits on the corner of her desk. She’s about to tell Jake to fuck off when she sees it’s not Jake. Jake is over in the break room on the phone. It’s Rosa.

“Hey,” Amy says passively as she looks back down and continues organizing. In the light of the precinct, she can see the ring that she put on, that oddly fits, sparkle. It’s off-putting. But, considering he got it for one dollar, also pretty in the weirdest way.

Rosa says nothing. In fact, she’s silent for so long that Amy looks back up again to verify she’s still there.

Rosa then sighs, and says, “None of that was meant to be mean.”

Amy raises an eyebrow.

Rosa sighs again, this time put out. “Jake came to us last week, and asked if we would help him celebrate if he won. We just thought it would be fun. I...” She grimaces. “ _Hope_ your feelings aren’t hurt. Or whatever.”

Amy just straightens out the papers, “My feelings weren’t hurt.” She looks up to see the tables turned, and now Rosa is staring at her in slight disbelief. “Fine, they were a little, but it’s just a stupid bet, and now I have to spend three hours of my life out with Peralta. It won’t be that bad,” She says, mostly trying to convince herself.

“If you had won, we would have done the same,” Rosa says. And Amy’s oddly reassured.

“Thanks-”

“Don’t speak of this,” Rosa says. Amy nods. “And don’t let Peralta do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Why do I feel like I’m about to go to Prom,” Amy jokes, and Rosa barely cracks a smile.

“Jake may be a bit of an ass sometimes, but he wouldn’t do anything gross. Out of anyone to be forced onto a fake date with...” Rosa shrugs. “You lucked out.”

“You’re not the one about to do it, though,” Amy points out.

Rosa shrugs, “Fair.”

“Hey ladies,” Peralta says, appearing out of nowhere with a large bag. “There are four of the same dress in this bag, madam,” He hands it to Amy, who just places it in her lap.

“Am I supposed to wear all of them at once?” She asks in disbelief, trying to peek through all the glittery paper in there.

“No- Wait, actually-” Rosa, who’s now standing right next to him, elbows him in the stomach. “ _Ow_ , fine, no. I wasn’t sure what size you are, so I just bought four and hoped for the best.”

Amy decides that’s oddly organized, in a Peralta sort of way, so she takes the bag and decides she doesn’t want to see the dress yet. “So, do you have a plan for tonight are you just gonna wing it?” She asks, like neither idea fills her with dread (which they so do.)

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” He waggles his eyebrows at her. “Just be in one of those dresses ready to go at 9 o’clock, because I own you until midnight.” They had settled the terms of the bet while slightly drunk at Shaw’s bar, but she knew the rules. He starts to ramble slightly, "Well, I don't really  _own_ you because that's gross-"

“I know the rules,” She interrupts. “Are you picking me up?”

“Yep. In _my_ car,” He grins at her. “See you then, Santiago.” He jogs away.

Rosa snorts, “That’s the idiot you’re dating tonight.”

“Because I lost a bet!” Amy almost whines, luckily she’s just persistent enough for it to sound like a violent fact.

“Because you’re not as good as a detective as I!” He spins around in his chair and Amy sighs to herself. And, oddly enough, tries not to laugh.

+

This dress is worse than spanx. This dress is worse than what she imagines a corset to feel like. It’s hot and sticky, it feels like wearing humid weather.

Jake sent her a text with his specifications for the outfit. Hair down with a small braid in (photo attached), the dress, heels at least two inches high, her “ugliest, most colorful” purse, shiny lipgloss, and a jacket of her choosing in case she gets cold.

She would sarcastically thank him for that last one, but she doesn’t feel like dealing with sarcasm in translation.

She showers when she gets home and blow dries her hair, brushing it out and braiding it after she gets herself a light salad for dinner from the nearby bodega with decent pre-made stuff.

She debates texting her mom about the date, for advice or just to fill her in, but she decides against it. Her mom is a diehard romantic and would totally read into it as lovely and romantic. She already thinks Peralta and her are “meant to be” so she vows to never talk to her mother about it ever.

An hour before Jake will arrive, she looks at the different sizes for the dress (a two, four, six, and an eight, apparently Peralta doesn’t understand clothing sizes.)

The six is a bit too small, but the eight is way too big, so goes for the six and figures she won’t actually be eating tonight to worry about it. Plus, she was going to be uncomfortable anyway.

Her niece that’s super fashionable for her age group loves sending her makeup, so she pulls out her only lip gloss that’s not over a year old that makes her lips looks shiny and mauve. She also added a colorful, polka-dot purse that had been accumulating dust in the back of her closet and now she can finally use it. Gotta look at the bright side.

The lip gloss tastes like sugar cookies, different than her normal cherry-flavored lip balm. And oddly enough, that really freaks her out, this drastic change from the norm. Like, is this lip gloss representative of her and Jake's new dynamic? Will everything be different now?

But Rosa’s words ring true in her head. Jake would never do something that would make her uncomfortable, even with her at his mercy.

Well... she hopes so.

+

Instead of calling her phone or going to her door like a normal person, Amy is notified of Jake’s arrival by him honking his horn and shouting her name. Like her neighbors didn’t already hate living next to a cop. Now, she’s a cop with annoying friends.

Reluctantly, she takes a deep breath and goes for her door as she hears him continue to shout.

“Amy Santiago! Date time! Time to date!” Speaking of, he’s surprisingly punctual, only five minutes late.

She sticks her head out the door, self-conscious in this dress that feels tighter by the minute, “Peralta, this outfit is ridiculous.” She tells him, like he doesn’t already know.

He does not seem bothered, as he leans against his open door of his Mustang, “Chop, chop. There’s plenty of embarrassing to do and only a few hours to do it in.” She’s also surprised to see him in a tux jacket and bow tie. Knowing him, she doesn't get her hopes up though. It might be rigged with magician gear.

Once again biting the bullet, Amy steps out, knowing she made all of his specifications as she locks her door. Hell, she even put on some eye makeup to balance her face out.

She holds her arms out, so he can also bask in the ridiculous dress, “Happy?”

He’s grinning the same grin he had when he was proposing to her. “Oh yeah.” In the dark, she can only faintly tell he’s giving her a solid onceover. “You look like every girl at every Bat Mitzvah I ever had a crush on.”

Amy just gives him a look for that as she walks across the not-busy street.

“Let’s see the bow!”

Sighing, she spins around and reveals the bow. She had to have Ms. Sokoloff, her Polish next-door neighbor who’s vaguely racist but makes a mean pierogi, tie it for her.

Jake laughs, utterly giddy. She’d probably be laughing with him, since his laugh is infectious as hell, if she weren’t the butt of the joke. “Just like Jenny Gildenhorn.” He frowns, eyebrows furrowing together as she spins back around. “Why do I wish you had braces? Should we get you braces? Nah, that’s too much.”

She has so many witty barbs to say to that, but keeps her mouth shut, hoping he’ll eventually have mercy on her and let her go home early or something. Or just be decent until midnight. So she just rolls her eyes.

“Here I come,” He narrates himself as he steps out from behind his car. And now she sees that he’s only wearing one half of a tux. The other half is khaki shorts.

Okay, she definitely can’t resist. “Nice shorts.”

“Thank you,” He says like she was giving him a genuine compliment, “Believe it or not, they were not very expensive.”

She gives him a deadpan “wow” face as he stands in front of her, but then goes for his kindness, “Do I _really_ have to wear this all night?”

He crosses his arms behind his back, “Yup. You know the rules. The date starts now, and ends at midnight. I decide what you wear, what you eat, and where we go. Oh!” He says like something’s just occurred to him.

“And there is one more rule.” He says with a dramatic pause as he takes a deep breath. Nothing else for her to do except wait patiently. “No matter what happens,” He leans on the car and looks deep into her eyes, “you’re not allowed to fall in love with me.”

She gives him a look, “Won’t be a problem.”

+

In the car on the way to Shaw’s, Amy is quiet while Jake prattles on about his solicitation ring bust. Maybe she’s acting like a twelve-year-old by pulling the silent treatment, but Jake is acting ten, so she’s at least being more mature.

“Aw, c’mon, Santiago, I know you want to jump in,” He says, interrupting himself in the middle of his story. “If you don’t, I’ll just pull an old school move and just say racist, sexist and homophobic things until you call me out on it,” He says, grinning as he watches her look over at him in pure disbelief. “I would, I got drunk with Jimmy Brogan, it would _astound_ you, what shitty things I overheard.”

As someone who has heard those things to their face, she gives him a look, “I doubt it.”

“Ha! She speaks!” He says triumphantly. And she has to smile a little, but then he says, “Just another thing I win today.”

She goes back to being quiet.

“Are you being a sore loser?” Jake asks, and her jaw clenches. “Amalia Soreloser Santiago, how _dare_ you?”

“That’s not my middle name,” Amy says, giving him a look.

“I know, I'm a detective, Destina,” Jake says like a know-it-all, actually getting her middle name right. “I even know your social.”

Amy's eyes go wide, “No, you don't.”

He opens his mouth and goes to spout numbers, when she interrupts. “Fine, sure you do, Peralta.”

At a stop sign, he looks over at her and smiles. “Got you.”

Surprisingly, Amy finds herself smiling back, but she can’t resist the urge to bite back a bit, “Your car smells like old cheese.”

“That’s part of his charm,” Jake maintains.

“His?” Amy clarifies. All of her brothers named their cars, trucks or motorcycles, but they were all feminine.

“Yeah, my mustang is a total bro. His name is Chad, and he happens to smell like cheese and is a bit of a fuckboy at times,” He flashes a quick smile her way, causing her to laugh.

“Is this what the entire date will be like?” She just wants to be prepared.

He laughs, low and deeper than normal, “Wouldn't you like to know, Miss Most Appropriate?”

And Amy sighs. This'll be a long night.

+

“Oh no,” Amy says as she sees Jake grab a bullhorn from the back of his car.

“Oh yes,” The shit-eating grin is in full-force as he gestures for her to follow. “C’mon, darling.”

With only a slight hesitation, she follows him into the bar.

The celebration is already in full swing, when Jake interrupts the whole atmosphere by signaling the siren “toot-toot-to-tooooot” on the bullhorn, causing Amy just to grin and bear it.

“Hot date, comin’ through!” He calls through the machine, leading her in. Internally, she begs for someone to call him a disturbance so she can arrest him. But, like herself at times, everyone is charmed by him. “Hey, attention, everyone!” He continues to speak into the amplifier. She just smiles beside him, hoping she looks like a beauty queen and not a girl at a Bat Mitzvah. Hell, even a runner-up. “Now, I know that tonight is Boyle’s big night...”

Thankful for the attention to not be on her but also wanting to celebrate her friend and colleague, she claps and cheers with the rest of them, sending him a genuine smile as he reaches up to acknowledge the cheers. But then Jake has to open his big mouth.

“But let’s forget about that completely for a moment,” Amy huffs and glares at him, but he keeps talking, “And admire and comment on every terrible aspect of _this_ ,” With that, he gestures grandly to Amy.

Figuring Jake earned it by getting that prostitution win, she gestures to herself as well, playing it up a bit as people applaud her.

Once people look away and the bullhorn is away from his mouth, she asks, “Permission to go to the bathroom?” She almost adds ‘sir’ but thankfully retracts it at the last second. Damn, what is with herself and authority?

“Granted,” He says, like he’s a benevolent king, “First of three. Use them wisely.”

She rolls her eyes and goes to the bathroom.

Inside is Rosa, and she looks badass as always. Her dark eyes give her a onceover after Amy exits the stall. “You look like a trainwreck.”

Amy smiles, because that was the intention apparently, “Thanks. Why are you hiding in the bathroom?” Not that she was weird about it, but Rosa was just standing in there. That's not what a bathroom is for. 

Rosa sighs, “Boyle is dropping truth bombs today.”

Amy cocks her head, “Oh?”

“Apparently his pain meds make him blurt the truth out, so I’m... trying to stay out of the crossfire,” Rosa says.

Amy nods, “That explains a lot, he was so weird this morning...” She thinks back to his admission that he wanted her to lose, and decides that it wasn’t Jake messing with her. She turns back to Rosa, “But, I wouldn’t expect to see you, of all people, hiding out in here.” Amy says, using the tone she does when she’s implying something and also messing with her brothers.

Rosa’s eyes narrow a fraction, “I’m not hiding out.”

Amy shrugs as she dries her hands, “Sure. Well, I gotta go play girlfriend.”

Rosa smirks, “How’s that going?”

Amy makes a face, “His car smells like cheese.”

Rosa shrugs as they both go to leave, “If that’s the only negative, maybe it’s a good date.”

Amy freezes in the spot. Just as she might concede that’s a good point, she just says, “See you, Diaz,” and leaves, trying to ignore the slight truth Rosa _might_ have.

+

Back with Jake and the bullhorn (which might as well be another appendage it seems), she’s placed in the center of a circle as Jake goes to the outskirts. Thankfully, he sets down the bullhorn and is just yelling in the middle of the bar.

“Attention everyone,” Jake says, “Santiago and I will be performing the steerage jig from the film _Titanic_.” Amy’s confused, because she doesn’t remember preparing, and that’s of course when he clarifies, “Which we have prepared for in no way, shape or form.” She winces inwardly. She already sucks at dancing with practice, she’s not going to fare well without it.

She can’t hear them, but she watches as Jake and Charles exchange some weird conversation that makes Jake tense. Before she can comment on it, he’s approaching her, “Milady,” and suddenly they go from a terrible semblance of a waltz to just spinning around in the circle.

“Do the spinning!” He orders.

“I hate your guts,” Amy informs him, getting a bit dizzy automatically.

With a grin, he tells her, “Channel that passion into the dance!” And she’s too busy focusing on her upchuck reflexes (oddly enough, she’s fine with dead bodies, awful with spinning) to laugh.

She hears Holt’s voice from the bar call to Jake, and instead of letting her pause, he orders Scully to tag in and her to keep spinning.

Blatantly defying orders, Amy halts her body, feeling too dizzy to function so she holds out her hands to steady herself. And also keep Scully from approaching her yet.

“You okay?” Scully asks.

“I’m fine,” She says, even though she still feels like cartoon birds are around her head. Scully starts to dance, but it’s definitely not the steerage jig, it’s some other form of Irish dancing and she just stares at him, even though the music is picking up again.

“Darling!” Jake calls, and she’s pulled away from Scully’s oddly grotesque movements and looks over at him, “Brief pause, duty calls-” He begins as he goes for her hand.

“Oh thank God,” She says, grabbing his hand like a lifeline away from Scully jiggling in front of her and they loop arms as they head back to his car.

“So a shipment is coming in from LaGuardia, and we have to stakeout the drop site by the Brooklyn Bridge,” He explains as he unlocks his car and they get in. “I know the way so-”

She chooses her words carefully, “I live near the Brooklyn Bridge. Well, on the way,” She clarifies.

Jake looks over as he tries to get his car to start, “Your point?”

“If we’re going to stakeout for awhile, can I change outfits?” She looks down at the outfit, and back up at him hopefully.

He studies her slightly, and she waits for the refusal, “Yeah sure, as long as you don’t mind me changing too. I always have a stakeout outfit in my car.”

“That’s oddly prepared of you,” Amy points out, then realizes something. “But how clean is it?”

He just shrugs as the car starts, “I’d be nice to me if you want me to let you change.”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she asks, super politely, “Can I please change? If you want, I have spare clothes of my brothers'.”

“Maybe,” He says as he pulls out, “I just need to see if the Santiago brothers are as terrible at fashion as their sister.”

Instead of barbing or bantering back, she just laughs, and he does too.

+

Jake has been to Amy’s apartment countless times over their partnership and friendship, but it’s always been with others. And certainly, he’s never been in there while she’s changing. It would be totally weird, but as she changes, she finds she’s oddly okay with it.

His only requirement is that the outfit she wears is still a dress, so she throws on one that’s similarly colored but way comfier.

When she comes back out, he’s looking through her old senior year yearbook and she puts her hands on her hips.

“What are you doing?”

Jake just starts laughing, open to a page, “You really were voted ‘Most Appropriate.’” He points at her photo that she did with a boy named Charlie Park, who was her male counterpart but Most Inappropriate. She found it oddly sexist, and still kind of does, but since she was not involved in the yearbook (too many other extracurriculars), she figures she can’t say.

“When do I lie?” She asks instead of just saying a simple affirmative.

He looks up at her, eyebrow raised suggestively, “When you say you’re not attracted to me.”

She rolls her eyes with a smile, “Need clothes?”

“Just a simple t-shirt. I doubt your brothers have any pants that’ll fit me, plus my stakeout jeans are super comfy,” He says, almost to himself. At her apprehensive look, he rolls his eyes, “And they’re clean enough too. You only need to wash jeans once a year, anyway.”

Amy gives him a look, “That’s not true at all.”

Jake smiles, quickly and surely, “You’re so easy to rile up.” He pulls out a pair of black jeans from his bag, and they don’t immediately reek.

She just goes to her guest closet and grabs one of Javi’s dark navy blue t-shirts that looks to be the same size as Jake.

He goes to the bathroom to change, and comes back out quickly enough. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, don’t want to disappoint, Holt,” She says.

“Of course not!” He says in his high-pitched “I’m messing with you and totally lying” voice that would be grating on anyone else but him, so she follows him back to his car.

+

After the car ride filled with blaring 90s rap, Jake pulls them up quietly to the drop site. “I’m so happy to be out of that dress,” She says for the umpteenth time. Mostly because she knows that Jake will enjoy the fact she suffered, “It was weirdly hot.” She says as she pulls down the binoculars.

“Oh yeah,” Jake says, “That’s probably because it was a cotton and plastic blend,” He sends a somewhat apologetic, mostly smirky grin her way. “But, not to worry, we’re gonna catch these guys and get back to the worst date of your life.”

She goes to say something about she was never going to worry, but can’t let him think that anything he does would top her actual Worst Date™.

“Mmm, _no_ ,” She says resolutely, “Nothing will ever be worse than the date I had with my aunt’s dentist.” Summing up the worst consecutive hour of her life, she tells him how Dr. Timmy Randall managed to give her a dental exam at a four-star restaurant.

Unsurprisingly, Jake laughs, so she feels the need to ask, “What was your worst date ever?”

Jake’s not looking at her, but she can see him make a slight face, “I think it’s like a fifty-way tie.”

Amy’s exhales a laugh, shaking her head.

He continues, “The last lady I went out with burst into tears when I told her I was a Gemini.”

Amy’s eyebrows raise, and Jake is oddly smiley for such an odd story, “Wow,” She says, not sure what else to say.

The conversation derails, because he notices something, “Hey, that couple left that door open. I bet there’s a better vantage point from the roof.” He leans over to point at what he figures to be the good spot.

She leans over as well to see, and also say a bit lower so it sounds slightly dirty, because dicking with Jake is fun because he’s always messing with her, “Hmm. And I bet it doesn’t smell like old cheese,” She says, voice just tip-toeing around sultry but mostly just soft.

Jake pulls away, “Okay, that’s hurtful.” He gives her a wounded look that he immediately drops. “Shall we?”

“Yep.” And they ascend their way up the building.

+

Amy watches blandly as Jake scales up the tallest part of the roof. “Man, I don’t know how Batman does it. It is _super_ scary up here,” He jumps off and joins on her on the convenient plastic boxes they found and shoved together.

Before she can actively not dignify that with a response, he says, “Hey, will you grab the binoculars? They’re in my stakeout bag.”

She digs through, but mostly sees nuts. “Your stakeout bag is 98% nuts,” She points out as she goes to hand them over as he sits down.

“I get snacky,” He says defensively, so she brings both the binoculars and a bag over as she moves to sit down, “Besides, nuts are super healthy, they’re like 0% fat.”

“Jake, that’s not true at all,” She informs him, out of civic duty, “It’s actually the opposite.”

“What? That nut vendor lied to me,” He says, the perfect mixture of bland and indignant, so she has no idea if he’s joking. And normally, she can read him.

He takes the binoculars and starts looking around. Since he has that handled, she looks at the car she almost won and then cocks her head at the sight she just saw. “I think a pigeon just flew out of your car...” She says, because she’s farsighted and would be able to see that even with her glasses on. So she knows it's true.

Jake says, “Yeah... the windows don’t exactly ‘roll up,’” He says like windows that roll up are extravagant functions.

After spending that night in the car, and also feeling a bit cheated that she almost “won” it in a bet, she says, “The car’s a piece of crap. Why do you love it so much?”

Jake exhales, and she worries for a second she’s overstepping her bounds when he asks, “You really want to know?”

She’s not sure if she wants to vocalize it, so she just stares at him, as if to say, _Didn’t I just ask_?

“I was two days out of the Academy- _super_ nervous. I saw this guy run out of a bodega clutching a bunch of cash.”

She pays close attention. She’s known him for years, and hasn’t heard this story yet. “So I pursued him, on foot. _Eleven blocks_ ,” He says, emphasized. Her eyebrows go up in surprise, and she’s smiling, happily picturing the Jake Peralta she’s always known, but replacing him with a green, fresh cop, trying to save a tiny little bodega from a theft.

Jake continues, “Finally catch him, cuff him, throw him up against,” He points and pauses dramatically, “That car.”

She gasps, even though she kind of expected it. The other option was that the car hit _him_ or something.

“Turned out there was a For Sale sign in the window. And, it being the best day of my life, I bought it,” He turns to her, smiling genuinely.

She finds herself smiling back, and making a surprised and awed expression. Because that cute.

Of course he ruins it by being glib, “Thus began the debt.”

Even though it’s been a year, she finds herself correcting him, “‘ _Crushing_ debt.'”

Jake’s smiling at her again, and this time he looks pleased and somewhat awed. “Yeah, you do know me.”

She finds herself falling back into nostalgia a bit, remembering the times their banter was a little less than friendly. But there they are. On a ‘date’.

“Nut?” She asks, after realizing she still has the bag in her lap.

“Only if you throw it,” He says, twisting to face her more, as she does the same to him.

“Ready? Ready?”

He nods, making a small affirmative noise so she tosses one in.

Considering she has such a wide target, and she has decent aim, she’s not that surprised to see it go in. But when he cockily flails his arms out, she doesn’t realizes she’s mirroring him until he goes, “Nice” and goes to do the same for her.

“Ready?”

“Uh-uh,” She braces herself to move her upper body. But he throws it way off, but she still tries to catch it with her face, for some reason.

Before she knows it, they’re both laughing, “What are you doing? Trying to catch it in your nose?”

His phone starts to ring, but she says, “I got it” like three times as she goes to try to figure out a strategy.

“All right, it’s Holt. Keep practicing,” He points the phone at her as he goes off behind them to answer it.

Because she’s still under Date Law, she tosses the nuts up in the air and tries to catch, smiling all pleased whenever she catches one.

She can hear Jake speak, but it’s a bit too soft and far away, besides she’s too busy focusing on the nuts.

The conversation is over quickly, and he’s coming back to sit down. “What did Holt want?”

“Just checking in,” He says, moving back next to her, “How _you_ doing?” He gestures to the bag with a flick of his hand, “Any progress?”

Amy nods emphatically, having realized it while he was on the phone. “Yup, watch.” She grabs over a dozen nuts and tosses them all above her face, and catches like four in her mouth. “The key is volume!” She explains, even though she’s chewing food (her mother and Abuelita would be ashamed) as she points to her mouth.

“I see that.”

+

Amy and Jake still on the roof, and it’s nearing 11 at night. No shipments seem to be coming in, so they just start talking again.

“So, be honest,” Jake prefaces before he continues, “If you’d won the bet, were you really gonna destroy my car?”

She thinks back to all the times she googled on his search history “How to safely destroy a car- Amy Santiago” and called information desks and wondered how much it costs to get a car cubed aloud around him just to mess with him. And she smiles a bit, pleased with herself that it worked, even though she lost.

She sighs, thinking of the opportunity lost as she answers, “No...” Her voice is solemn as she watches the site, “I was gonna drive it.” She raises an eyebrow as she goes in for the kill, “So I could learn stick.”

He seems like he nearly gets whiplash looking over at her in shock. “You wouldn’t,” His voice is even more hammy and dramatic than usual.

Amy grins a shit-eating grin at him, “I would.” She wraps her lips around the word, “Would have been like,” She mimics going for the gear shift and making pained mechanic screeching noises.

She relishes the instant grimace on his face as she continues to make the noises, but then he grabs her arm, “Hey, hey.”

Instantly, she goes silent, and they both duck down to the rails as a truck pulls up. “There’s our guys,” Jake says, voice much quieter than before.

“What’s our play here?” She asks, adopting the same volume.

“Just follow my lead,” He says. She nods, because Jake has good instincts, especially when it comes to undercover work (ignoring Harvey Norgenbloom, _seriously_ , Jake what were you thinking?)

“Give me the ring,” He says seriously, and holds his hand out. She takes it off her finger and places it in his hand.

“Now give me some nuts... I’m snacky,” He says, movie-trailer dramatic. She shoots him a look, but he just grins before she can actually follow his orders. “C’mon,” And he gestures for her to follow him back downstairs.

+

Amy watches and follows as Jake starts storming over to the truck, keeping up slightly even though she’s apprehensive. She adopts his attitude and pace, even though she’s not sure of his plan. But he said to follow his lead, and that implies trusting him. And, for some reason, she does.

“All right, _fine_ , darling, I’ll ask him,” Jake says, like a snooty person in a terrible relationship as they get within earshot of the criminals. “Will _that_ make you happy? Excuse me sir-”

Amy immediately crosses her arms and pouts and frowns. She can tell where this is going, and what Jake’s plan is.

The criminal holds up his hands in front of them, “Uh, we’re kind of busy here-”

Jake barrels on in Peralta fashion, “Yeah, my girlfriend here thinks we’re lost.”

Amy scowls, “No! I _know_ we’re lost, I think he’s an idiot,” She throws a thumb his way, like she’s refusing to look at him in her anger.

Jake makes an affronted noise, “Idiot?” You know why we’re out here in the middle of the night, _Susan_?” He says her ‘name’ with an angsty flourish, and she turns back over as if to say ‘oh this’ll be rich’ to find him pulling out the fake ring from before.

“I was gonna propose to you!” He says, just as hammy as before, but for some reason it works. He holds up the ring she was wearing most of the evening in front of her face, and she gasps like she wasn’t expecting it, throwing her palms up to cover her mouth because she’s watched _way_ too many YouTube proposals when she’s single and sad and that’s always the expression the girls make.

Jake continues, “On the Brooklyn Bridge, where we met.”

Amy’s not sure why she says this, but she follows the instinct, “Brooklyn Bridge?” She says, outlandishly and offended. “We met on the _Manhattan_ Bridge!” She says like he’s an idiotic boyfriend that would forget memorable things about relationships. And, from watching Jake’s minor flings come and go, that seems to be a fair assessment.

“You know what?” Jake snaps at her. “This is over!” She gasps. “Say goodbye to the ring and everything it represents!” He holds up the ring for a second then throws it off into the distance.

Amy barely hears it clatter to the ground, “Oh! You-” She almost doesn’t go for it, but decides that Susan would, “Son of a bitch!”

“Hey, hey!” The criminal that spoke up before snaps at her back, suddenly injecting himself in their fight, “Stop yelling!” He points at her.

Amy reels back, astonished. For some reason, she’s oddly pleased Jake comes to her (or maybe Susan’s) rescue, “Hey! No one talks to Susan like that-” Something about his decreasing tone makes her reach for her gun. The instinct proves right as he says, “And you know what- On the ground, NYPD!” He draws his weapon on the guy that yelled at her.

Amy draws hers as well, but aims for the accomplice, “NYPD, you’re under arrest!”

Both of the perps put their hands on their heads, knees on the ground.

“Nice work,” Jake says, not taking his focus off his perp.

She looks away for a split second, “You too.” Even with her weapon drawn and in the middle of a fake date, she smiles.

“I’m sad y’all are arresting me,” The perp that can’t keep his mouth shut says, “But, I gotta say, I’m glad you’re back together.”

Amy and Jake share a look, but decide to ignore it and just read the perps their Miranda rights.

+

Amy waits in the car after Jake pulls up in front of her apartment. They’ve processed the criminals, but they still have 30 minutes left until midnight. And Amy is nothing short of honorable.

“We still have half an hour,” Amy points out, even though Jake unlocked her door.

Jake smiles at her, then shrugs, “Eh, all my non-refundably deposited-plans are pretty much over now. Plus, I figure you’re beat. You almost got engaged tonight.”

“Too bad my almost fiancee can’t understand directions,” Amy tries to joke. It’s not her best, but Jake smiles anyway. “What was your persona anyway?” Jake always has a persona.

“His name was Luke Woods, and he was a secret agent.”

“Does that explain why he screwed up where he and his girlfriend met?” She asks, “Too many government secrets to remember instead?”

He grins wide, “Good one.” She smiles back. “But yeah, you’re good. I mean... have a good night. We have an early day tomorrow.”

She looks over at him. That was such a blatant lie. Their day is no earlier than usual. But he seems a bit off, so she says, “Have a good night, Peralta.” And then she goes inside.

Inside her apartment, she looks at the bag of dresses still sitting on her kitchen counter. Before she can talk herself out of it, she takes a quick picture of it on her phone, and eventually just sets the dress out to take a picture a snapshot of, all spread out on her floor, that mess of cotton and plastic.

You know, just in case she wants to make a scrapbook or something.

A little niggling voice in the back of her head that sounds suspiciously like her mother says, “ _And why would you want to remember this, mija?_ ”

She doesn’t answer the stupid voice, and decides to just go to bed.

+

The next morning, Amy is early to work, as always. “Detective Santiago, may I speak to you in my office?” Captain Holt greets after she finishing some paperwork. Jake, Charles, and Gina are just arriving, but since Gina and Jake refuse to be on time and it takes Charles longer to do things with his gunshot wounds, those things are par for the course.

“Yes, sir, of course sir,” She says, scrambling up from her desk.

“Only one affirmative is necessary,” He says, gesturing for him to follow him back into his office. She does, and remains standing as he sits down. Because, you know, respect.

“I would just like to commend you. Excellent job on the stakeout last night,” Holt says.

Amy smiles and nods once, arms crossed in front of her, trying her hardest not to explode with happiness. She loves Mentoring Moments.

“I’m glad to see you two still work well together despite that ridiculous bet,” Holt adds, looking behind her slightly before re-focusing on her.

Amy finds herself laughing slightly, “Thanks. Me too,” She says, and it’s honest. After thinking it over the night before, since she couldn’t really sleep after all the adrenaline, she realized that Jake meant no harm with his extravagant celebrating. He’s just childish sometimes, and it’s not personal.

“And I appreciate you turning down the relief team,” Holt adds, and Amy has to school her face to hide her surprise. Relief team? “I’m not sure they could’ve made that bust.”

“Yeah... right,” She says, nodding diligently. “The relief team,” She says, almost like she’s trying out the words.

“You’re dismissed, Detective.”

“Thank you, sir,” She says, and finds Jake sitting at his desk, typing away.

“So...” She greets him, causing him to look up briefly, smiling like a flash, and then going back to work. She sits down, trying to see if she can get him to acknowledge the relief team. Or just reveal anything, because Jake seems very closed off, and he’s normally pretty open. “Sorry you lost so much money last night. Guess you can add it to your list of bad dates,” She says, almost leading him with a question that's not really there.

He doesn’t look up from the computer, “Nah, it still goes on the good date list.” She finds herself surprised. But then he explains, “You know, because we caught the bad guys,” He says, somewhat offhand. She nods with a tight smile.

“That’s very mature of you,” She says, not sure of what else to say.

“Well, I am a very mature man,” He says smugly, and just as she’s about to call bullshit, someone interrupts them.

“Package, for Amy Santiago,” A male voice says, and she looks up at her name.

“That’s me,” She says. A guy in a postal uniform approaches her with a giant non-descript brown box.

“Special delivery from...” He reads off a note, “Jake Peralta.”

She looks over at her partner, and watches confused as understanding and regret simultaneously flash on his face.

Before she can ask what’s going on, the postal worker pulls out a boombox as he says, “To say, ‘Thanks for last night.’”

She gets a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach as the boombox gets turned on and Jake says, scrambling to stand, “Oops, I forgot to cancel-”

The postal worker, who she can now deduce is a stripper, spins her desk chair around so she’s facing away from her work and into him as “Rock Me Like a Hurricane” plays.

The guy starts stripping, and she can faintly hear Jake try to stop him, but she’s a bit distracted by the fact his pants are tearaway.

She goes to get up to leave, having enough of this, but he just gets closer. She says the word “no” more times in five seconds than she previously thought possible, as the guy starts to gyrate closer to her.

“Stepping in, stepping in.” She finally sees Peralta, stepping in between her and the stripper. “I’ll take this bullet for you,” He says.

Amy just makes an unamused face at him. Suddenly, Jake shouts, “Hitchcock? What are you doing?”

She twists around to see one of the oldest detectives shirtless in the middle of the bullpen. “I thought- aren’t we all gonna... No?”

Amy sighs and just closes her eyes. This will all be over soon.

+

Amy is eating some grapes in the middle of the break room, deciding to just ignore the fact that a stripper was right in front of her today.

She feels and hears a presence sit down next to her. She looks up to see Jake, who still smells a bit like a stripper (strong Axe body spray instead of his normal Old Spice).

“I’m sorry,” He says, totally sincerely, even though he looks like he’s biting his own bullet. “That was wildly inappropriate, you’re an officer of the law, and I’m a dick.”

She smiles at him, because she really liked that apology, “Thanks, Jake. You’re forgiven.”

He immediately sags with relief and grabs a grape from her. She rolls her eyes, but she’s not really annoyed. Almost every other day, he steals some of her food. Since it’s usually healthy, she looks on the bright side and decides it’s good he’s getting vitamins.

“So, you had to dance with Scully and a stripper in the course of 24 hours,” Jake says, smirking slightly. “Is that up there with your aunt’s dentist for shittiest date?”

She ponders slightly, then shakes her head, “No. It’s on the good date list,” She says, and watches as his eyes widen ever so slightly. “Since, you know, we caught those bad guys.”

Jake nods quickly, “That we did.”

“Plus, I got to see that _Chad_ wasn’t all that cracked up to be, anyway,” She goads him.

He takes the bait, narrowing his eyes, “How dare you disparage Chad?” She says nothing, so he continues, “Well, I guess when we do another bet, we’ll have to pick different stakes,” He says casually.

She leans her folded arms on the table and leans close into him. He mirrors her. “Not a chance in hell, Peralta,” She says, making sure she enunciates clearly. Then she grabs her trash. “See you in the bullpen.” And then Amy waltzes back to her desk, with the odd feeling that he’s watching her leave.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I know it's like two years too late, but I felt the obsessive urge to write this.


End file.
